


but you got the luck of a kennedy

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as River loves the running and the adventure and the flirting amid gunfire, she finds herself looking forward to a quiet evening on Peladon, dancing with her husband. Maybe she’s just getting old but it sounds like heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but you got the luck of a kennedy

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as 5 Times River and the Doctor go out and 1 time they stay in. Story title from Diane Young by Vampire Weekend.

_{1}_

 

“Dear, have you seen my bowtie?”

 

Shaking her head, River leans in toward her vanity mirror and attempts to apply her last coat of mascara without making a ridiculous face. “Where did you leave it last?”

 

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, wandering into the room and looking agitated as he searches beneath piles of books and clothes, opening drawers and rummaging. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

 

River eyes him through the mirror, capping her mascara and reaching for a tube of lipstick. Dressed in his shirtsleeves and trousers, his feet bare and his expression adorably harassed, he looks positively tempting. She concentrates on applying her lipstick to keep from hauling him back into bed. “Retrace your steps, sweetie. It’ll turn up.”

 

Sighing gustily, the Doctor wanders out again and off down the corridor. She can hear him shouting as he reaches the console room and begins retracing his steps. “I was standing here, trying to recalibrate the blue boringers when you called. So I picked you up, made you give back the diamond, and we left. Well, ran. I still had the bowtie. But then you – and we -” She can practically hear him blushing as he attempts to recount the moment they’d stepped into the TARDIS and she’d leaped on him. After several adventures in a row with his younger self, it had been like an aphrodisiac to finally meet up with her husband again. They’d stumbled together down the corridor towards their bedroom, shedding clothes as they went.

 

She hears the Doctor’s footsteps approaching and she turns from the mirror to see him stepping back into the room with an armful of clothes and a faint blush but no bowtie. He drops his burden at the edge of the bed and crawls onto the mattress, showing off a delightful rear for her enjoyment as he scrambles with blankets and pillows, pulling out her knickers with a choked sort of grunt.

 

River catches them when he slings them across the room, slipping the lacy scrap of fabric into the pocket of his regular tweed jacket. Enjoying the thought of him pulling it out by accident when reaching for his sonic screwdriver the next time he wears it – hopefully in front of a companion – River hums and smiles, watching him locate his bowtie beneath a pillow and tied to the bedpost. “See? Told you you’d find it.”

 

“Right as always, dear.” He hastily unknots the bowtie and leaps from the bed, slipping it around his neck.

 

As he fiddles with the ends, bouncing a bit on his toes and not even attempting to actually tie the bloody thing as he watches her, River smacks her lips together and gives herself one last glance in the mirror. She fluffs her hair and stands, smoothing out the skirts of her dress. “Alright then, come here Time Lord.” She takes the ends of the bowtie in her hands and begins to thread it into a bow, fully conscious of his gaze on her and that little smile curling his lips. “What are you grinning about?”

 

“You.” He catches her hands in his, kissing her knuckles, and keeps looking at her with that sappy, soft-eyed expression that makes her hearts feel like they’re going to careen right out of her chest. “The dress looks lovely on you.”

 

It’s difficult pretending she doesn’t feel flushed all over but she manages a soft huff of amusement and finishes his bowtie, patting it in place. “You just like seeing me in a corset.”

 

“What? I don’t -” He stops mid-protest, fighting off a blush and meeting her gaze like a brave boy. “Yes, well, can you blame me?”

 

Shaking her head, River leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “You look very dashing, my love.”

 

He preens, stepping out of her arms to pick up his dinner jacket and slip his gangly arms into it. With a proud little grin that makes her insides melt, he offers her his arm. “Shall we, wife?”

 

Smiling, she takes his arm and lets him lead her through the TARDIS and into the console room. It’s been a while since they’ve had a nice night out together without any interruptions or without one of them being far too young to properly romance. As much as River loves the running and the adventure and the flirting amid gunfire, she finds herself looking forward to the coronation ball they’re attending tonight. Just a quiet evening on Peladon, dancing with her husband. Maybe she’s just getting old but it sounds like heaven.

 

As they step out of the TARDIS and into the middle of a warzone, it becomes very quickly apparent that heaven will have to wait. The palace is in shambles around them, Peladonians screaming and running for the exits, and low, monotone voices of Cybermen echoing off the walls. Across the room, River spots the new Peladonian Queen Elhyhna being led away in chains.

 

With a sigh, she hitches up her skirts and reaches for the blaster strapped to her thigh. “So much for date night.” She glances at the Doctor and finds him already grinning, his face boyish and glowing in the light of an explosion in the distance. It rocks the whole palace, sending bits of stone crumbling from the ceiling and raining down on them like ash.

 

“Rain check on the dancing, dear?”

 

She gestures with her blaster, smirking. “Lead the way, honey.”

 

_{2}_

 

“I can’t believe it was your turn to choose our date night and you chose _picnicking_. You are becoming frightfully romantic in your old age, my love.”

 

His wife sounds positively gleeful and the Doctor struggles not to outright beam at her. As much as she may tease him about it, he knows she secretly loves it when he dotes on her. His only regret is that he doesn’t manage it nearly often enough. “Hardly that,” he says anyway, just because a date night with his wife is not complete without a little bickering. “If you’ll recall, I merely took a leaf from your book, Doctor Song.”

 

River sips her wine slowly, eyeing him.

 

“You know,” he hedges, scrubbing at the back of his neck and wishing he hadn’t brought it up. He doesn’t like remembering Asgard. “You ambushing my poor younger regeneration with a picnic basket? Massive ego, sandshoes -”

 

A lift of a shapely brow stops him in his tracks and River utters, “Spoilers.”

 

He curses, flushing.

 

Swallowing her laughter, she turns and collapses into an elegant recline, her head in his lap and her golden curls spilling over his thigh and onto the picnic blanket. River blinks up at him, mouth lifting into a coquettish pout that makes his insides tremble. “I’m hungry.”

 

“Well, that’s why we brought the picnic basket, dear.” He grins anyway, dropping a hand to sift through thick curls. She nearly purrs, eyes fluttering shut and her head bumping his palm as she arches into the touch. “What would you like? I packed all your favorites.”

 

“Sap.”

 

He taps her on the nose.

 

She captures his hand with alarming reflexes but he doesn’t try to get away. He watches with a fondness that swells and nestles just between his hearts as she brings his hand to her mouth. Her hands are small and soft, well manicured and capable. He loves River’s hands. His own hands are long and clumsy, with calloused palms and pink, gnarled knuckles. He doesn’t understand her fascination with them but he represses a shudder of delight as she kisses his fingertips sweetly, one by one, and then nuzzles her cheek against his rough palm, like an affectionate, trusting cat.

 

Somehow, he manages not to squeak as he breathes out her name on a soft sigh, feeling an inexplicable longing for the woman holding his hand, as if his hearts know he will never be able to get her close enough to satisfy him. Her lives sing through his veins, humming and sizzling just beneath the surface of his skin, and it still isn’t near enough.

 

Slowly, River blinks open her eyes and smiles at him, soft and lazy. “Feed me a grape?”

 

Swallowing thickly, he nods and tears his gaze from her with reluctance, turning to rummage through the picnic basket as River makes herself more comfortable across his lap. “Red grapes or green?”

 

“Oh, I just love a fella who prepares.” She hums. “Red, please.”

 

He plucks out the little container of grapes and settles again, tapping her chin. River opens her mouth obediently, allowing him to slide a grape past her lips. She curls her tongue around the fruit and manages to flick against his finger teasingly. He jumps, flushing, and her laugh is filthy. “ _River_.”

 

Gazing up at him as she chews, attempting her best look of wide-eyed innocence, she asks, “Yes, sweetie?”

 

He huffs but it’s been such a long time since they’ve had a quiet date to themselves that he can’t quite manage his usual annoyance. The more she teases him, the more he looks forward to the end of their picnic, full and lounging on their blanket, curled around each other with wandering hands. Knowing River, she’ll drag out their picnic as long as possible. He squirms, dropping another grape into her mouth.

 

She deliberately makes the most obscene noise he’s ever heard, moaning low in her throat. His whole body turns hot and cold. He gapes down at her, eyes riveted on her mouth as she chews. He doesn’t notice her eyes opening until she smirks. “Something on your mind, Doctor?”

 

“Just the usual,” he rasps.

 

“That’s a long list, darling.”

 

“Ah, but only one constant.”

 

“Daleks?”

 

“Well, two constants.” He traces a tender fingertip down her cheek.

 

River beams. “You are ridiculously in love, aren’t you?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” He smirks, fringe flopping into his eyes as he looks down at her. “But I am quite fond of Marilyn.”

 

Faster than he can cower, River sits up and rolls him beneath her, straddling his chest and pinning her elbow to his neck. Beside him, the bowl of grapes has been upended, scattered all across the picnic blanket and into the grass beyond. He gulps, eyeing his wife cautiously as she glares down at him. “I hate you.”

 

“You don’t.”

 

And then she kisses him just to prove him right. The Doctor sighs into her mouth, lifting a hand to thread through her curls and draw her closer, tasting the distinctly River taste of lightning and honeysuckle. She nips at his bottom lip, a swift, punishing little bite that makes his toes curl in his shoes. He squirms beneath her, wrapping a leg around her ankle. River makes a soft noise of approval, shifting her hips and pressing them into his.

 

He whimpers.

 

She smirks, little hands curling around his ears in that way he likes so very much.

 

Quickly fumbling between them for the skirt of her dress, the Doctor begins inching it up, hoping that if he touches her just right, with just enough pressure where she likes it best, he might hear her breathe out _sweetie_ in that delicious hitching sob that makes his hearts stutter in his chest.

 

A sharp gasp that doesn’t come from either of them is quickly followed by, “Quick, back away!”

 

Startled, they both lift their heads, their lips kiss-bruised and their cheeks flushed.

 

Behind the meadow is a dense forest shielding them from a little English settlement – a settlement the young man in front of them has clearly just stumbled out of. “You’ve been bewitched, Sir.”

 

The Doctor blinks. “Is he talking to me?”

 

River frowns. “Do _I_ look like a ‘sir’?”

 

“No.” He grins at her. “You are most definitely all woman.”

 

The young man turns, shouting into the forest. “A witch! A witch!”

 

River tenses, their banter forgotten.

 

From the bushes, two other men burst into the clearing and stop in their tracks at the sight of River and the Doctor entwined on the picnic blanket. The young man who’d discovered them jabs a finger in their direction. “Her hair! It is not of this earth.”

 

They stare at River with wide, frightened eyes.

 

She tosses her curls at them.

 

They scream, stumbling backward.

 

Whirling, River glares down at him. “Sweetie, please tell me you did not take me on a picnic during a time in which people were still being _burned at the stake_.”

 

He giggles nervously. “Well, to be fair, I’ve always said your hair was magical. And look at that.” He gestures between her curls and the men advancing cautiously. “Proof.”

 

“I really am going to kill you this time. I mean it.”

 

“Promises, promises.”

 

_{3}_

 

The water sparkles like diamonds in the six moons of Anura and River steps out of the TARDIS with a smile, breathing in the night air. It curls around her body like a second skin and she wriggles her toes in the sand, taking a tentative step toward the shoreline.

 

After a moment, she realizes she’s still alone and her smile grows as she glances over her shoulder. The light from the TARDIS spills out through the small crack in the door, warming the sandy beach with its soft orange glow. A ridiculous head peeks out, hazel eyes peering out beneath fringe as he watches her with rapt attention, even while he tries to pretend he is most definitely _not_ looking.

 

“Are you coming or not?”

 

“I just don’t understand why we can’t wear swimsuits.”

 

She settles a hand on her hip. “Because it was my turn to pick a date night and I chose skinny dipping.”

 

“But River -”

 

“You know I’ve already seen absolutely everything you’ve got, don’t you? And I do mean _everything_.” She raises an eyebrow and he flushes.

 

“Yes, of course,” he snaps peevishly. “But that was in _private_.”

 

“What do you call this?” She gestures around the deserted beach with a grin. “No one here but little ol’ me.”

 

He sighs, throwing open the TARDIS door and stepping out with an air of defiance. He strides toward her – all pale, gangly arms and long skinny bird legs – a confident swagger that still makes her a bit weak-kneed. “I’ve no idea why I married you. You’re far more trouble than you’re worth, River Song.”

 

She hums thoughtfully, glancing down at herself. “I can think of a reason.”

 

The Doctor grasps her around the waist suddenly, drawing her in for a kiss and grinning all the while. “I can think of several.”

 

“Good boy,” she murmurs, ducking her head to kiss his chest. “And look at you.” She rakes her eyes slowly up and down his body, enjoying the way he flushes. “All dressed up in my favorite suit.”

 

He bounces a bit on his toes. “And you. Is that a new dress, Doctor Song?”

 

She swats at him, letting him capture her wrist and kiss it.

 

He brushes his lips over her double pulse, glancing up at her through his lashes. “River?”

 

“Yes, sweetie?”

 

He grins suddenly, dropping her hand and racing off down the shore, kicking up sand in his wake. “Last one in the water is a Judoon!”

 

River gasps, darting after him. “You rotten, cheating Time Lord!”

 

He has longer legs but she’s always been faster and it doesn’t take her but a second to catch up. She leaps onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist, and the Doctor yelps, stumbling. They land in the water with a splash, the impact separating them instantly.

 

River stays under just a moment longer than her husband, opening her eyes and peering through the cool, clear water. She spots the Doctor’s leg right next to her and grins inwardly. She tickles her fingers over the back of his knee and even underwater, she hears him shout. He kicks out his leg but she latches on, brushing her lips playfully across his inner thigh.

 

He shudders, dropping a hand into her hair.

 

She nuzzles into the touch, surfacing only when he tugs lightly. He’s waiting for her with scolding eyes and a grin that only widens when River blinks water from her eyes and shakes her soaked curls at him. “Come here, my bad girl.”

 

Floating closer to him, River smiles when he winds an arm around her waist and draws her in. His lips find the top of her head and his hand settles at the small of her back, keeping her from floating away from him. River tucks her head beneath his chin and closes her eyes.

 

For a moment, she can hear nothing but the gentle, soothing hum of the TARDIS sitting on the beach and the sound of water lapping gently around their bodies. It’s quiet and peaceful and exactly what she’s been longing for – some time alone with her husband. “See?” She murmurs quietly. “This is nice.”

 

The Doctor hums in agreement, sounding languid and content. “I suppose skinny dipping does have its advantages.” He slips his hand down her back and over the curve of her bum, squeezing. “Couldn’t do that with a bikini in the way.”

 

River laughs, tipping her head up to kiss that sheepish grin from his face. As their lips meet, a light but enveloping weight blankets both of them, startling them apart. A fishing net. River fights valiantly with it, attempting to free them, but the Doctor glances up at the ship floating alongside them as the sailors aboard it work to haul them up and out of the water.

 

“Oh no.”

 

At the Doctor’s groan, River stops struggling fruitlessly with the net and glances at him sharply, mentally cursing herself for leaving her weaponry on the shore. “Oh no, what?”

 

He keeps his eyes on the group slowly tugging them from the sea. “Pirates. Worse – _female_ pirates.”

 

River frowns at his tone of disdain. “Worse?”

 

He sighs, gesturing to the masthead. “Marla ‘the man-eater’ Morris. She and her…” The Doctor wrinkles his nose, “ _cohorts_ recruit women into their fold and keep the men chained below decks. Nasty business.”

 

“Women pirates with sex slaves?” Nearly at eye level with the crew now – all of them beautiful, strong, muscular women – as they’re pulled onboard, hovering just above the deck, River eyes them speculatively. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one, sweetie.”

 

The net drops and they hit the creaking deck of the ship with a painful thud. The Doctor grumbles about inept handling of their merchandise and River jabs him with an elbow. He grunts, helping her tear the net off and away as the pirates form a circle around them, studying River with interest and the Doctor with varying expressions of glee or revulsion.

 

A woman with long dark hair, outrageous amounts of eyeliner and wearing a big hat with a feather – Captain Morris, clearly – meets River’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

 

She glances at the Doctor. “Song. River Song. And this is my… pet.”

 

The Doctor squawks. “ _River_ -”

 

“Hush.” Captain Morris silences him with a glare. “You’ll speak when spoken to.”

 

The Doctor huffs.

 

“My apologies.” River elbows him again, attempting a smile. “Still breaking him in.”

 

“He’ll learn soon enough here. You’ve just been recruited, River. Welcome aboard.” Captain Morris narrows her eyes. “Any objections to sharing your ill-mannered pet?”

 

By the way she’s looking at her, River assumes sharing is encouraged, nay, _expected_. She doubts any resistance on her part would be met with understanding. Settling for a smirk and a coy shrug, River allows one of them to help her to her feet, turning to leer down at the Doctor with the rest of them. He flushes, attempting to cover himself. “What’s mine is yours, ladies.”

 

“Bit skinny if you ask me,” one of them grumbles.

 

The Doctor stares at her in outrage but says nothing, pretty mouth a thin line of annoyance.

 

“I dunno,” another says. “I sort of like his hair.”

 

It’s amazing, River muses fondly, how quickly he can change into a preening peacock.

 

Rolling her eyes, Captain Morris jerks her chin. “Take him below decks.”

 

River steps forward to help them clap the Doctor in irons, mourning the loss of yet another lovely evening as her mind begins piecing together a half-arsed plan to escape. The Doctor eyes her nervously but allows her to chain him without putting up a fuss.

 

“Don’t worry, honey,” she murmurs. “This pirate never shares her booty.”

 

She pats his bare bum, winking.

 

He gulps.

 

_{4}_

 

Calderon Beta looks exactly as it had that first night centuries ago – well, it is that night. It’s funny how much they’ve changed since then, when River was young and unsure and he was utterly in love and eager to impress. Not much has changed for him but River has blossomed in her freedom and in her marriage. She is sure of his love and sure of herself. She is the River Song she was always meant to be.

 

Arm threaded through his, she stands at his side at the base of the tree, staring up at the starlight filtering through the leaves like sunlight. She blinks rapidly, turning to look at him with shining eyes. “Oh sweetie,” she breathes. “Our wedding night.”

 

“The very one, Mrs. Song.” He bops her nose, grinning.

 

“You certainly know how to romance a girl.”

 

“Nah, girls are easy to impress. Do it all the time.” He sways toward her proudly, brows raised. “But my wife is a woman. The epitome of Woman, in fact. And women are little more complicated.”

 

“My, you are very smooth tonight.” She laughs, reaching up and straightening his bowtie. “Hoping to get lucky, sweetie?”

 

He flushes, batting her hand away from his shirt collar and lacing their fingers together. “Of course not.”

 

“Hmm. Shame.” River slinks past him, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m a sure thing.”

 

Nearly swallowing his tongue as she sashays toward a chip shop, the Doctor stumbles after her, the tips of his ears pink. They purchase a large order of chips to share and River somehow manages to wrangle a bottle of cheap wine from the shop owner. They walk slowly to the lifts carrying their dinner, side by side and enjoying the night air.

 

“Is it really the same night?”

 

The Doctor nods, ushering River into the lift with a hand at the small of her back. “Of course it is,” he scoffs. “Do I look like the sort of time traveler who would recreate a wedding night without making sure it was the exact same night?”

 

River snorts.

 

He pouts. “Oh, hush. It’s the same night. I _checked_.”

 

“You checked?” She grins, swaying into him as the lift doors slide shut. “You really are trying to be impressive, aren’t you?”

 

“I am always impressive, River Song.” The lift jolts as it begins its ascent to the top of the tree and he stumbles into her, unbalanced even on solid ground. River steadies him with a warm hand on his bony hip, her eyes sparkling as she tilts her head and looks up at him. “What?”

 

She shakes her head, curls brushing his jaw. “Nothing. You’re pretty.”

 

His insides tremble a bit and he swallows. “You know, there’s a whole list of manly adjectives you could use. Dashing. Devastatingly handsome. _Hot_.”

 

River shakes her head again, fingers curling into his tweed and her lips twisting into a wry smile. “Pretty suits you.”

 

He sighs, gazing down at her fondly. River always looks beautiful, even in a prison issue top and trousers, but tonight, she looks resplendent. Her dresses aren’t as short as they used to be when she was in University – she nearly drove him to a stroke on four, no five separate occasions – but the hem flirts just above her knees, displaying tanned, shapely legs and the dipping just enough in the front for the perfect hint of cleavage. Just enough to make him wish the neckline was just a little lower. River delights in catching him looking.

 

He lifts a hand to her curls, more riotous and bouncing tonight than usual, spilling over her shoulders and slipping into her eyes. He tugs at a spiral playfully, smiling. “Pretty doesn’t suit you at all. Far too plain.”

 

River beams. “Thank you, sweetie.”

 

“Exquisite, maybe.” He grabs her hand as the lift jolts to a stop at the very top of the tree. The doors slide open and he bounds through them, tugging her with him. “Magnificent. Amazing. Or my personal favorite, hot space lady  -”

 

River laughs, placing a hand over his mouth as he gathers her close and twirls her in a circle in the starlight. “Sweetie, when I said I was a sure thing, I meant it. No need for excessive flattery. Not that I’m complaining.”

 

“You think I’m trying to get – to get -”

 

“Laid?” River raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

 

He flails his hands at her. “I am insulted, River Song. Furthermore, I am disappointed that you would think such a thing. I’m… _dissulted_.”

 

She rolls her eyes, dragging him in by the collar of his shirt. He follows willingly, flailing hands settling on her hips. Her teeth capture his bottom lip, tugging lightly, and he groans. She sucks his lip into her mouth and his hands tighten painfully on her hips, his toes curling in his shoes. River laughs softly, releasing his lip to kiss him properly, the hand not holding their dinner leaving his shirt collar to thread through his hair.

 

He takes a shuffling step closer, winding an arm around her waist. Nothing feels quite as perfect as River’s curves pressed all against him, slotting into the planes and angles of his body with familiar ease. This is what he has missed – this closeness. The Doctor loves the running. He _lives_ for the running. But these quiet moments with his wife are what he’s always running toward.

 

“Still not trying to get laid, Time Lord?”

 

He frowns, pausing just long enough to pull back and look into her eyes. “Stop using that word. It’s…dirty.”

 

“Oh honey,” she purrs, smirking. “You haven’t heard dirty yet tonight.”

 

He swallows, his trousers well past uncomfortable, and says, “But the chips.”

 

“Will still be here when we’re done.”

 

“The stars -”

 

“Been there. Done that.”

 

“Right.” He breathes, leaning in again eagerly.

 

 _“But_ River _, the chips are getting cold.”_

 

They both freeze at that familiar whinge, stepping back to stare at each other with wide eyes. He’d completely forgotten. River had grown bored in the middle of stargazing the last time and dragged him by the bowtie to the less populated side of the tree overlooking the chip shops instead of the sea – more specifically, _this_ side of the tree. They’d – well, it was their wedding night, after all. But he doesn’t remember it being particularly kinky and it certainly will be if River meets herself.

 

 _“_ I’m _getting cold, sweetie. Worry about_ that _.”_

 

River blinks up at him, eyes still dark and dilated from their kisses. “Is that -”

 

 _“Well, body heat_ is _the best way to warm up.”_

 

_“That’s the spirit, husband.”_

 

The Doctor grimaces, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps – confident high heels and a clumsy, hurried gait. “Oops.”

 

River grabs his hand and they run.

 

_{5}_

 

“This is brilliant.” The Doctor stuffs another slice of pizza into his mouth and bounces a little in his seat. “We should have done this five dates ago.”

 

River watches him eat from the other side of their booth, one leg curled up beneath her and the other nudging playfully at his ankle under the table. An Italian restaurant in the middle of 21st century London isn’t exactly her idea of a romantic date but quite frankly, she’s running out of suggestions. And the place doesn’t really matter, not as long as her husband is with her and they aren’t being interrupted by aliens or pirates or their own past selves.

 

Reaching for her fizzy drink, River sips from the straw and nods her agreement. “I think we might finally have a night alone, sweetie.”

 

Swallowing a mouthful of pizza, he grins and does his best to leer at her but mostly just ends up raising his brows and looking adorable. River stifles a smile. “A whole night? Whatever shall we do with ourselves?”

 

She slips her foot out of her high heel and smiles wickedly, sliding it slowly up his leg. The Doctor chokes, eyes widening as he watches her. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.” She inches her foot a little further, tapping her toes against his knee.

 

“River,” he hisses. “Behave.”

 

His inner thigh is warm under her foot and he jumps when she wriggles her toes, just barely brushing against his groin. “Make me.”

 

“Maybe I will.”

 

His eyes narrow in warning but his cheeks flush so beautifully that she can’t resist temptation – the Doctor’s blushes are a spectacular weakness on her part. If only Kovarian had known. River meets his gaze with a smirk and slides her foot _up up up_ pressing right against the rapidly swelling bulge in his trousers. The Doctor gasps, twitching, and River begins to hum I Am Bound For The Promised Land under her breath.

 

Huffing, the Doctor snatches up her foot and mutters, “Right, that’s it, Song. You asked for it.”

 

She lounges insolently on her side of the booth, amused. “Hit me with your best shot, honey.”

 

There really isn’t much, if anything, the Doctor can do to fluster her. River prides herself on being utterly shameless. But she’s forgotten one very important thing – the Doctor plays dirty.

 

He tickles her.

 

River gives a full-bodied jerk, shrieking with laughter as she tries to get away, but the Doctor keeps a tight hold on her ankle, slender fingers softly but mercilessly tickling the bottom of her foot. She continues to struggle anyway, twisting and kicking and convulsing in the booth, her laughter ringing out over the restaurant. The other patrons turn to stare but she’s in no state to care, gasping out, “Sweetie, no. Please! Stop it!” She kicks at him with her other foot, giggling. “Doctor -”

 

He pauses, fingers hovering dangerously over the bottom of her foot, his hair falling over his forehead and his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Say you’re sorry.”

 

Gasping for air in her brief respite, River lifts her chin stubbornly. “Never.”

 

His brows lift in surprise. “Am I to understand you refuse to accept the terms of surrender, Song?”

 

“I never surrender, sweetie.” She grins, stretching lazily, pushing her foot into his hand. “But you should if you have any hopes of getting into my -”

 

“Are we interrupting something?”

 

That Scottish lilt is unmistakable. River waves goodbye to all hopes of an evening alone with her husband as they both turn their heads to find the Ponds standing at the foot of their table and watching them with matching smiles. River pastes on one of her own. “Amy, Rory. What are you doing here?”

 

Rory lifts a takeout bag. “That’s Mum and Dad to you, young lady.” He drops his eyes to River’s foot in the Doctor’s lap and frowns. “What are you two doing here?”

 

The Doctor hastily shoves River’s foot from his lap and drops his hands, no doubt covering any lingering evidence of arousal. River picks up a napkin to wipe at her mouth, hiding a smirk. “Nothing. Eating. That’s what married couples do, right?” He gulps. “Eat together?”

 

Amy snorts. “So nothing, y’know, end of the world-y is happening?”

 

The Doctor frowns. “Why does there _always_ have to be something end of the world-y? Can’t a man just have dinner with his wife?”

 

“No offense Doctor but this place isn’t exactly up to your standards when it comes to taking my daughter out on a date.” She ruffles his hair. “ _And_ no top hat. So, what’s the big bad?”

 

“There isn’t one, promise.” He holds up his hands, smiling. “Time Lord’s honor.”

 

Rory coughs something that sounds suspiciously like _Rule_ _One_ under his breath.

 

River meets his eye and winks. “Not this time, Dad.”

 

“Oh.” Amy blinks. “Well, if you’re not saving the world and you’re not on a date, we might as well join you. You don’t mind, right?”

 

River manages not to let her smile slip. “Of course not. The more the merrier.”

 

The Doctor visibly deflates, scooting over to make room for Amy while River shifts to give Rory some room. Their eyes meet and she manages a weak smile, shrugging her shoulders. She can’t exactly tell her parents to go away. The Doctor pouts, fiddling with his napkin.

 

As Rory begins sorting through their takeout boxes, Amy steals one of their breadsticks, beaming. “Pond family night! We should have these more often.”

 

Rory glances up, smiling. “What about a movie after this? We’ll make a night of it.”

 

“Sounds lovely.” River beams, her heart sinking.

 

The Doctor slumps morosely in the booth but forces a goofy grin when Amy glances curiously at him.

 

“What shall we see?”

 

“What about that new Batman movie?” Rory glances at his wife for approval. “The Dark Knight Rises?”

 

“Not recently,” the Doctor mumbles sourly into his fizzy drink.

 

Beneath the table, River kicks him.

 

_{1}_

 

“More rice, sweetie?”

 

“Please.” He parts his lips, waiting, and River uses her chopsticks to drop a helping into his mouth. He hums blissfully, chewing. She drops her head to his shoulder, helping herself to another egg roll. Her hair tickles his cheek and he tilts his head, making a nice pillow for himself with her fluffy curls. “S’good.”

 

River makes a soft noise of agreement. “Is there any more sweet and sour chicken?”

 

He uses his chopsticks to feed her a piece.

 

Technically, it had been his turn to decide their next date but they made a mutual decision not to go anywhere. Instead, they’re cocooned safely within the TARDIS walls, floating peacefully in the vortex with Chinese takeout. The Doctor uses his foot to nudge the repair swing into swaying gently. Shifting her weight from her side of the swing, River curls up on his lap, heavy and soft and warm in his arms. Her nose nudges at his bowtie playfully and he feels her smile against his throat.

 

“Did you get the fortune cookies, dear?”

 

“Six. There’s bound to be at least one fortune you don’t want to throw into a supernova.”

 

He sighs happily, content with a full belly and finally, _blessedly_ alone with his wife. “Why didn’t we think of this ages ago?”

 

River smiles and kisses his jaw. Her lips, sticky and sweet with sauce from the chicken, leave an orange imprint in her wake. “Best date ever.”


End file.
